Page 34

She must have looked as cold, bedraggled, and miserable as she felt, because the old woman who spied her loitering at the edge of the market square peered at her with narrowed eyes.

But after a moment, she bustled over, threw a grey woolen shawl around Evi’s shoulders, and led her wordlessly to a small wooden stool.

Evi sat, gazing vacantly at her steely gray-haired benefactor, piercing blue eyes in a lined face under a dark blue kerchief. Her expression was questioning, but Evi was too tired, too listless, too empty inside to make the attempt to speak.

The woman watched her for a moment, bustled off, and returned with a tin cup of water. When Evi nodded her thanks but said nothing, she ambled off toward rough-hewn wooden handcart that displayed a few potatoes and cabbages.

Evi gulped water until she began to choke, then sipped the rest slowly, feeling every drop begin to saturate the empty space inside her. She pulled the grey shawl close around her, watched the old woman tend to a customer, and glanced around at what appeared to be a small village marketplace.

No more than a clearing in a wooded area, it held a few worn wooden tables and handcarts, several rusting bicycles leaning against a shed, and four or five vendors selling produce, fresh and dried fish, and sewing goods from their carts to a small but steady stream of buyers.

The briny smell of the fresh fish roiled her empty stomach, threatening to bring up the water she had gulped. Evi swallowed hard, trembling under the woolen shawl, aware the old woman was watching her.

After a while, the woman came toward her again, bearing a small, green apple. “Eat it slowly,” she warned.

Evi rolled the apple in her hands, sniffed it and took a cautious bite. It was at once sour and sweet, and she felt her mouth fill with liquid.

“ Dankuvel ,” she managed when she had swallowed.

The woman nodded. “So, you can speak.”.

Evi looked around. “Please, where is this place?”

The old woman squinted. “This is Vlaardingen, ” she said. “It is not far from Rotterdam. My name is Alettte.”

Evi wailed, a small, thin sound, hardly recognizing the sound of her own voice.

The woman persisted. “How did you come here?”

Tears came. Evi swiped at them. “From the sea. I jumped from a barge.”

“From a barge...” The woman’s eyes narrowed.

Evi pointed vaguely toward the coast. “Somewhere down there. The Germans came. I jumped from a barge. My Mam told me to jump ashore…”

Tears from a place deeper than she knew escaped and blurred her vision. “They killed her…They murdered my Mam…The Nazi bastard raise his rifle and shot her. I saw her fall into the sea…”

“ Lieve god …” the woman called Alette winced, sinking down on one knee to Evi’s level. “What is your name, kleintje ? Where do you come from?”

“My name is Evi…Evi Strobel,” she sobbed. “We were coming from Haarlem. That is where we live…on the Spaarne…”

Alette nodded. “Do you have family here?’

Evi shook her head. “No.”

“In Haarlem then. Friends, perhaps.”

She hesitated. Mila, perhaps? Zoe ?

“There is a train to Haarlem from Rotterdam,” Alette said. “But better, I think, if someone could come for you and take you there.”

Evi drew a shaky breath.

Alette rose to her feet, wiped her hands on her striped apron, buttoned her coat to the collar. “I will take you to my home, kleintje It is not far away. There, I have a telephone – if there is service.”

ZOE

She was cleaning the holding cages when the telephone shrilled. She ran to answer it. “Mulder Pet kliniek . How can I –”

She stopped.

What she heard was an agonized sob.

She tried again. “This is Dr. Visser. Who is this?”

“Z- Zoe,- “ She did not recognize the voice. “It is Evi…”

A pause. “Evi? Evi Strobel?

“ Ja …” Zoe heard the quiver in her voice. “Mam is gone, Zoe. Dead. The Germans murdered her. I jumped from the barge. I am in Vlaardingen…”

Zoe struggled to make sense of what she heard. Vlaardingen…Lotte dead? “Evi, when did this happen?”

“Early today. We were on our way to Middleburg with baby Jacob - Oh, lieve god …” The girl broke into anguished sobs.

Baby Jacob?

Zoe let Evi cry for a moment. Her voice, when she spoke, was gentle. “Evi, alstublieft. Please…You are going to be fine. Is there someone there with you in Vlaardingen?”

In a moment, a new voice came on the line. Evi sobbed in the background.

“Hallo?”

“ Ja, I am here. My name is Zoe Visser - Doctor Zoe Visser. And you? ”

“I am Alette Spierhoven. I am here with your young friend in Vlaardingen. She is very sad, and barely coping. She needs to get home. Can you help?”

Zoe struggled to make sense of what she heard. Then her brain sprang into action. “ Ja, ja, natuurlijk. . Can you tell me exactly where you are?”

...

She paced for a moment in the empty kliniek . A train, perhaps, to Rotterdam. She did not have access to an automobile – and even if she did, there was no petrol.

A thought surfaced. She picked up the phone, quickly dialed a number.

“Plumbing company.”

“Pieter, it is Zoe. I am at the klinie k.” Quickly, she told him what she knew, about Lotte’s murder at the hands of the Germans, about Evi, impossibly stranded somehow, in a small village near Rotterdam.

Pieter cut her off. “I understand. I can drive. It is not so long a way.” He paused. “Or perhaps, Mila would be a better choice. Evi knows Mila well. I will talk to her at once. One of us will collect you at the back door of the kliniek in one hour.”

...

Zoe was standing in the alley behind the kliniek , tying a scarf around her head, when Mila drove up in a dark green Daimler.

MILA

“Whatever has happened?” Mila asked, as Zoe slipped in beside her in the front seat of the Daimler. “Pieter told me only that Evi needs help in Rotterdam… Rotterdam ? ”

Zoe took a breath. “In Vlaardingen, actually. Evi telephoned, totally distraught – and with reason. As I understand it, she and Lotte were on their way to Middleburg this morning when German officers boarded the barge. Evi was able to jump to safety onshore, but Lotte – Lotte was shot – murdered as Evi watched from the shore.”

Mila slumped in her seat. “ Lieve god …”

“Evi found her way to a marketplace in Vlaardingen, where a woman took her in. I spoke to her. Her name is Alette. She sounded trustworthy. For Evi’s sake, I hope that is true. In any case, she told me precisely where to find them. Bedankt that you are able to drive.”

“It is only an hour’s journey, I think…I will make up some story for my father…S chamel Evi. Poor Evi… Schamel Lotte…”

She turned to Zoe. “Where is the barge?”

“Afloat somewhere, I suppose,” Zoe told her. “I only know that Evi was frantic.”

She paused. “She said something about a baby…Lotte was moving a baby to safety, I think….”

Mila’s brows rose. “I know that Lotte has transported refugees many times…but where would this baby have come from?”

Zoe shook her head. “I do not know. But the poor child was likely murdered as well…These were German invaders, after all.”

Mila stepped harder on the gas pedal.

Zoe turned to her. “First Daan Mulder. Now Lotte. Who will be next, Mila? The Germans are becoming more malicious than ever. There is no safety anywhere.”

Mila remembered the Obersturmfuhrer – Franz Becker of the Deitrich recording – who had warned of Hitler’s threat to murder two Dutch citizens for every German soldier lost in the dual explosions…

Zoe broke into her thoughts. “Mila, are you aware of the hiding families and the others we have sequestered at the hospital in Heemstede ? ”

“Pieter told me about them, yes,” Mila said. “You set aside food for them that had been rescued from the Gertman train.”

“Yes,” Zoe said. “But I fear the German thirst for revenge is growing. They are now demanding the names of all patients and staff at the hospital where these families are sequestered. I live in fear that stormtroopers will one day storm the building.”

Mila considered. “How many people are in hiding there?”

“Thirty, perhaps…a few Jewish physicians…the hiding families – at least one wanted German patriot…”

Mila stole a sidelong glance. “A German patriot?”

“ Ja,” Zoe paused. “His name is Kurt Schneider. He fled Germany early in the war when the Gestapo came after him for helping refugees escape…”

Mila listened.

“Kurt is a kindly person, Mila – a gentle soul who tells stories to the children to keep them quiet and occupied in their shelter.”

Mila smiled. “It sounds as if you know him well.”

“Not well,” Zoe said, looking out of the window. “But I would be lying if I said I do not feel drawn to him. A German, of all people…and yet I confess that in any other world, I would like to know him better…”

Mila nodded, the depth of Zoe’s caring clear to her.

“Not every German is cut from the same cloth, Zoe,” she said. I am sure there are many who abhor Herr Hitler.”

And then there are Dutchmen like Reimar de Boer, she thought, who sell out their countrymen for a price…

She had heard no more of de Boer’s condition, only that he was recovering under heavy guard at an unnamed Amsterdam hospital – and despite Pieter’s confidence that his pistol could not be traced, she could not help fearing for his safety.

She drove the last few kilometers in silence.

“We are nearing the turn to Vlaardingen,” she said at last. “Tell me the signposts we are to look for… ”

EVI

Mevrouw Spierhoven – Alette, she insisted – fed her soup that was rich with vegetables, and homemade noodles made from wheat she said she had grown and ground herself. She insisted on making a bed for Evi on a sofa piled with colorful handknit blankets.

The colorful blankets reminded her of Mam, and Evi wept silently into their softness. She was wide awake, heavy with grief, when she heard the motorcar stop. She sat up, throwing off her covers.

An automobile door closed, and then another. Evi ran to the door of Alette’s cottage.

“Evi?”

It was Mila. She would know her voice anywhere.

“ Ja, ja , I am here!”